I. An Edifice Of Isolation, Built With The Bricks Of Desire
In the darkness of my bedroom
I send my love out in all directions
to search for your gorgeous and delicate brainwaves;
all the thoughts and desires that make you,
all the sparkling electricity that jumps and flutters
as your soft breath and pulsing mind fills a universe.
II. Where We Become Drunken Painters
As moonlight graces your intoxicating eyes
the tender reflection of my emotional core rises and scatters
like a horde of butterflies lifting off in erratic flight:
playfully flitting to and fro like a clumsy rainbow,
they gleefully splatter onto the canvas of the sky.
III. To The Rhythm Of Pounding Hearts
Your delightful countenance decorates even bare walls
with gloriously painted landscapes that sing
like a thousand springtimes captured in a bottle then vigorously shaken and swiftly let loose into the spaciousness that blooms
whenever two lovers gaze longingly into each other's eyes.
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 3:34 PM UTC
I. An Edifice Of Isolation, Built With The Bricks Of Desire
In the darkness of my bedroom
I send my love out in all directions
to search for your gorgeous and delicate brainwaves;
all the thoughts and desires that make you,
all the sparkling electricity that jumps and flutters
as your soft breath and pulsing mind fills a universe.
II. Where We Become Drunken Painters
As moonlight graces your intoxicating eyes
the tender reflection of my emotional core rises and scatters
like a horde of butterflies lifting off in erratic flight:
playfully flitting to and fro like a clumsy rainbow,
they gleefully splatter onto the canvas of the sky.
III. To The Rhythm Of Pounding Hearts
Your delightful countenance decorates even bare walls
with gloriously painted landscapes that sing
like a thousand springtimes captured in a bottle then vigorously shaken and swiftly let loose into the spaciousness that blooms
whenever two lovers gaze longingly into each other's eyes.
